


I Witnessed It, After All (abandoned WIP)

by superliminalpermafrost (SuperliminalRain)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Famous Poet Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22991611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperliminalRain/pseuds/superliminalpermafrost
Summary: "You wrongfully thought, Geralt, that Little Eye was interested in you out of morbid, downright perverted curiosity,that she looks at you as though you were a queer fish, a two-headed calf or a salamander in amenagerie. And you immediately became annoyed, gave her a rude, undeserved reprimand at the first opportunity, struck back at a blow she hadn’t dealt. I witnessed it, after all." — 'A Little Sacrifice'Dandelion and the Witcher Geralt fall into an easy companionship after their first meeting, sharing songs and meals as they travel together. But as the nights turn cold and sharing a bedroll becomes a necessity, things grow awkward between the two men. Dandelion is renowned for his skill at charming those he shares a bed with, but all his usual tricks seem to just drive the wedge between him and Geralt deeper. How do you deal with a Witcher who spoons you at night yet spurns you in the daylight?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	1. We know little about love

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by the short short story "A Little Sacrifice" in _The Sword Of Destiny_ (By Andrezj Sapkowski, of course). Since Essi Daven is in most ways just a genderbent Dandelion I wanted to write a story where the reason Dandy knew what Geralt was doing to Essi wasn't solely the fact that he knows Geralt very well, but that Geralt had pulled the same exact stunt on him. 
> 
> I think anyone unfamiliar with the books who still wishes to read this work will be able to, as this story is set early into Geralt & Dandelion's relationship so you don't need to know any specific events that happen in the books.

Four months after leaving Gulet, Dandelion wakes up with frost glistening on his lashes and wrapping his tresses like a lady’s veil. Geralt wakes up and opines, voice heavy sleep and rough with it too, though Geralt’s voice is always a little rough— rich and deep like a chalumeau but not nearly as sonorous as Dandelion’s own voice— that it is “fucking cold”.

Dandelion pokes at the coals, stirring the dying embers back to life. With more grumbling that the bard can’t quite make out, Geralt fetches the wood he left under his spare cloak and places the branches among the coals to rebuild the fire. He then pulls rations from his pack— dried fruits, and the remains of the smoked fish— and evenly divides them between himself and his traveling companion. They eat in silence, having found they mutually prefer merely to listen to the sounds of the woods and the road over making conversation. Geralt is looking at Dandelion far more than he is wont to, and most peculiarly of all... the witcher in staring at his eyes. Geralt doesn’t care for eye contact. While the man is no beast (or at least no more a beast than other, un-mutated, men), he only meets another person’s gaze when it is to frighten aldermen trying to cheat him of coin or to exchange sly knowing looks with his traveling companion. Otherwise he prefers to look at his surroundings, or his horse, or at Dandelion’s hat with an awful lot of unwarranted judgement for a man who owns only clothing that if it was ever fashionable, was fashionable decades ago.

The frost from his lashes melts in the soft warmth of the campfire and Dandelion reaches up comb the frost out of his hair as well. His hand reeks of fish and, nose curling in disgust at the scent, the bard gives up on tending to his tresses. Geralt huffs a soft laugh and leans over, his gloved hands gently running across Dandelion’s hair. Were he more awake, or less stupidly fond of the man, Dandelion might think it odd for Geralt to be currying him in the same way he grooms Roach’s sweaty coat after a ride. Circumstances being what they are, Dandelion simply closes his eyes and leans forward— acquiescing to Geralt’s generous care. Far too soon, the gentle hands still. Dandelions twists his head around so he can place a soft kiss to Geralt’s gloved palm. The witcher’s right hand chucks Dandelion on the chin playfully. He shifts closer to the poet, pressing their bodies together and releases his grip. Dandelion sits up, and opens his eyes to a world coated in the golden hues of sunrise. Geralt’s fine white hair looks almost as blonde as his own in the early light. His loosely curled fist is still under Dandelion’s chin, his fingers resting against his throat.

For every work of art there is a single moment that inspires it: a seed that sews the roots of the songs that inevitably will be sung. Lesser poets call these moments the seeds of destiny, but Dandelion believes his master & great muse is Chance. The famous poet is of the opinion that war and love, the stuff all songs are made of, are a rebuke to destiny. For war and love create moment of pure chance and make banal destiny yield: allowing peasants to slay knights and end the rule of their king and scullery maids to marry princes— where no man is weak and no man is strong— these are the moments that are immortalized in poetry and song and falsely called destiny. Of course, chance is far more fickle than destiny.

A deer comes crashing through the brush. Witcher and Poet spring apart and destiny reasserts its hold on their lives. The men pack up their bedrolls, get on their horses, and ride until nightfall, Dandelion performing folk songs and ballads he perfected years ago, too unsettled to try and put the gleaming sun that gilded Geralt’s hair into verse. That night they eat the last of their fish, no venison to be had.


	2. A pear is sweet and has a distinct shape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which actual bed sharing happens. Or, Geralt thinks he knows what Dandelion expects from him but is very wrong.

Dandelion keeps up a steady stream of chatter during their supper, despite the fact that Geralt barely responds. This is not the first time the witcher has brooded and Dandelion has found that philosophy, gossip, and song can coax him into good cheer. Eventually, the sour look flees from Geralt’s face and he responds to Dandelion’s stories with his own or interjects with his wry wit, giggling as Dandelion theatrically responds with mock offense to Geralt’s sass. The sour look is not to be banished for long however, and returns once they’ve finished their meal. Buoyed by perhaps a smidgen too much of wine and his boundless affection for his companion, Dandelion reaches over and smoothes Geralt’s furrowed brow like his anxiety is yet another bloody wound he can wipe clean. His companion grasps Dandelion’s wrist and lifts the poet’s hand away from his face.

“You don’t have to do this for me to keep you warm. I’m not one of your patrons,” he says, voice exceedingly gentle except for the last word which he spits out with the disgust usually reserved for naming far more profane professions— thief, trollop, witcher.  
Dandelion regrets sharing his tales of his more unsavory patrons, Geralt clearly thinks Dandelion is some fragile thing to be taken advantage of.

“I know you’re not the sort of man who asks to be paid in anything other than coin, Geralt.”

“Then why did you respond to my advances?”

“I found them favorable. I wanted you Geralt.”

“Wanted?” He sounds relieved and confused in equal measure.

“I still want, dear friend, but not if you’re unwilling.”

“That’s not it,” Geralt says, his tone lace with an anger that has never been directed at the bard before, “You can’t understand.” He clenches his hands into fists, releasing his hold as soon as he feels his fingers bite down on the bard's slender wrist. He squirms away, scooting in the dirt in haste to put distance between him and his companion.

For all that he is acting like a martyr who wants to suffer needlessly for the benefit of some arcane god, Geralt instead looks like a puppy who pisses in his master’s boots and expects to get smacked for it. Dandelion is no longer tired, he is incandescent with rage— less at Geralt for treating him like a child, and more so at whoever harmed the witcher so that Geralt believes no one would freely consent to have him— but mother preserve them, Geralt looks so tired. Dandelion allows himself a dramatic sigh, and then grabs their bedrolls, ignoring Roach’s whinnying and Geralt's matching noise of protest as he rifles through the other man’s pack.

“If you don’t want me for a bed warmer, I will not make any attempts on your virtue. I am no rapist, no matter what angry brothers and spouses claim. But it is a matter of necessity for us to share the heat of our bodies on a night like this, do you not agree?”

“I agree,” Geralt says simply, taking his bedroll from Dandelion and laying it on the ground next to where dandelion is laying down his own bedding.

“Splendid.”

Under warm covers, Geralt allows Dandelion to lay his head upon his breast, snuggle into the crook of his neck and wraps his arms around Geralt’s chest. To Dandelion’s delight, Geralt embraces the bard as well, pulling him tight to the Witcher’s chest so that Geralt can card his hands through Dandelion’s hair. In In the morning, Dandelion expects he will have to have to sit through another round of Geralt's insistence that the Witcher is forcing his gentle touches onto an unwilling companion, and likely will chastise the poet for allowing it to happen instead of listening to reason— it took two months for Geralt to believe that Dandelion was truly happy to have him for a traveling companion, likely it will takes years to assure Geralt that he sincerely wants the Witcher for a bed companion as well. But Dandelion has years left in him and he is at least as stubborn as Geralt, if not more so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering what pears have to do with anything, all Chapter titles are taken from the series, specifically this excerpt from Dandelion's memoirs: “We know little about love. Love is like a pear. A pear is sweet and has a distinct shape. Try to define the shape of a pear.” 
> 
> I almost named this chapter "In Which The Situation Goes Pear-shaped" instead, however Dandy is too diplomatic to let things get truly awful and I figured it was better to stick with quotes, anyhow. 
> 
> I want to thank everyone who read this, especially those who left kudos. If you have any comments, even if it's just to say "hey I like this" I'd love to hear from you!!


	3. Oops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note to readers: DW this story is getting finished just... with a caveat

So I decided to re-edit this fic today & I feel that the changes are big enough that it is almost a different work. I like the story much more after the edits- I feel like I did a better job of pacing and of giving the characters actual personalities and feelings-- but I don't feel right deleting or editing this existing work because people liked it so it will stay up & I might come back and even write a proper ending to this version, though I made no promises.

What I am going to do is post a new work with the edited version. It'll have the same title & plot but be better and- barring unforeseen circumstances- I will write a final third chapter for that version of the story! I hope y'all are willing to read it! Thank you to everyone who read this work, and double thank you to anyone who left a comment!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [I Witnessed It, After All](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23019448) by [superliminalpermafrost (SuperliminalRain)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperliminalRain/pseuds/superliminalpermafrost)




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